Faramir of the Fellowship
by StoryMing
Summary: What if Faramir had gone, and been one of the Fellowship, instead of Boromir? It's an idea other writers have done, but I'd still like to try. Much of Tolkien's original text, reappropriated. Not sure WHEN or IF I will ever finish, draft still in rough shape and many unanswered questions (any Betas wish to help?). All usual disclaimers apply. Feedback and reviews welcome!
1. To Seek Imladris

"I say Faramir shall go."

" _I_ claim this errand. The way is full of doubt and danger, and I take this journey upon myself. My brother is not without valor, but I am recognized the greater warrior; I am the older and the hardier. I will not be stayed."

"Yet I, Steward of the realm of Gondor, do stay you. The dream-vision has come to Faramir repeatedly; to you but once only. Faramir is called, and Faramir shall go. As the one with the greater scholarly learning he is suited to this task: to seek the meaning of this riddle; to ask for counsel and the unraveling of hard words. Let your brother go off on this wild goose chase. Your valor is in feats and strength of arms. You are needed- your City, and your father, need you- here."

"But, Father—"

"My decision is final. We will not discuss it further."

Denethor, Steward of Gondor, watched as his son stormed off in anger- and sighed. Seldom before had he ever denied his elder son- his firstborn and heir- in anything. And it is unlikely he would have done so now, had it not been for the warning. Indeed, he had been on the point of giving this errand to Boromir, albeit reluctantly, when a seer of Gondor had come to him, with grave and portentous words.

" _I see a boat floating on the water, glimmering grey; within, lapped in the water, a warrior asleep- arrayed as for a funeral; and the great horn, heirloom of the House of the Stewards, cloven in two._ -If Boromir goes on this quest, he will not return alive."

It was the dreams had started it all. Gondor was besieged; in sudden war Osgiliath was swept away; the evening before the attack, Faramir had had a dream, in which he heard strange words:

 _"Seek for the Sword that was broken:_  
 _In Imladris it dwells;_  
 _There shall be counsels taken_  
 _Stronger than Morgul-spells._  
 _There shall be shown a token_  
 _That Doom is near at hand,_  
 _For Isildur's Bane shall waken,  
_ _And the Halfling forth shall stand."_

As he set out, he passed by Boromir sitting moodily in a corner of the pavilion, and he went over to take his leave.

"Boromir; Brother; do not grudge me this chance. Please... this is something I feel I _must_ do." He knew how his brother's pride must be stung, seeing his younger brother set out on the errand he had been refused; and indeed, he would sooner have preferred to face an army of orcs than his brother's resentment. At length, Boromir raised his eyes; and Faramir was startled to see that they were wet with the trace of tears.

"I suppose you are getting too old for me to be forever standing between you and the chance of danger," he said, in a low voice; quite unlike his usual commanding tones. "Take care of yourself, Little Brother—and come back safe."


	2. A Talk with Faramir

_So the Ring set out, headed south. The Company passed through the land of Hollin, where they were beset by a flock of crébain; they were nearly buried in the snow, going over the mountain pass of Caradhras; then into the long dark of Moria, the ancient Dwarf realm, now the abode of evil things. In that place they were ambushed, and ere they made their escape and passed to safety out the other side, Gandalf fell into the deep, standing against the Balrog, the mighty fire demon. In grief they came to living land, Lothlorien, heart of Elvendom on earth. There they lingered and tarried for a time, and were loath to go, but their journey called them on, and provided with boats by their gracious hosts, they took to the River, Anduin._

Ten days they floated down Anduin's broad back. Almost they were caught in the Sarn Gebir; for the River was swift and they came farther, sooner, than Aragorn expected.

They reached the Falls of Rauros, and set camp on the green lawn of Parth Galen, under the shadow of Tol Brandir. In the small hours of the night, a restless Aragon and watchful Frodo noted that Sting glowed dimly with a faint blue light: Orcs- not very near, and yet too near, it seemed.

In the morning, when they had eaten, Aragon called the Company together. They could go no further without a decision, whether to take the western way seeking Minas Tirith, or the eastern way upon the darker shore, onward to the land of Mordor. Frodo begged an hour, alone, to consider the matter. Leave granted- with an admonition to stay within call- he reluctantly got up and walked away. Sam watched him with concern. "Plain as a pikestaff it is," he muttered, "but it's no good Sam Gamgee putting in his spoke just now." As he went, Sam saw that while all restrained themselves and did not stare at him, yet the eyes of Faramir were troubled, and scanned uneasily around, as if wary of some attack that did not come.

Wandering aimlessly at first, Frodo found his feet leading him on a path leading up the slope of a hill. Some while he climbed, until he came to a grassy clearing overlooking the River. With the voice of the falls of Rauros roaring about him, he sat down upon a stone, and thought. He pondered all that had happened since Bilbo left the Shire, and everything he could remember of Gandalf's words; yet still he was no nearer a choice.

He was interrupted in his thoughts by a strange feeling that he was watched, that keen eyes were upon him. He rose and turned; and saw to his surprise only Faramir, and his face was sober yet kind.

"Your pardon, Frodo! I was uneasy, what with rumor of orcs about, lest they should come upon you, alone and unguarded. I do not wish to intrude," he made to withdraw, then paused, hesitant. "–Yet you are troubled in mind. I fear I can offer but little in the way of wisdom or counsel to assist you (alas for the loss of Gandalf!), but if it would relieve or comfort you to speak your perplexity, here am I, ready to listen."

"You are kind," answered Frodo, "But I do not think that any speech will help me. For I know what I should do. But I am afraid of doing it, Faramir; afraid."

Faramir stood silent, as Rauros roared endlessly on, and the wind murmured through the branches of the trees. At length he came and sat beside him.

"What would you, then?" he asked. "I do not seek to know any of your mind that you would not freely impart; nor to sway you in your decision, one way or the other. But if you will counsel with me, perhaps it may be that I can advise you in your present course, whichever it be– yes, and even aid you. Do you wish to come first to Minas Tirith, to rest, and gather your courage before your venture?"

"I wish it, indeed!" said Frodo. "And such a course would seem like wisdom, but for the warning of my heart."

"Warning? Against what?" asked Faramir, yet more gravely attentive.

"Against delay. Against the way that seems easier. Against refusal of the burden that is laid on me. Against- well, if it must be said- against trust in the strength and truth of Men."

"Aye," murmured Faramir thoughtfully. "For though the Men of Gondor have stood staunch through many long years of trial, yet it cannot be said that their faith is absolute and has never wavered nor faltered: else we should not be at this pass today. Through Isildur's fault, all Middle Earth now stands in jeopardy."

"I do not doubt the valor of your people. But the world is changing. The walls of Minas Tirith may be strong, but they are not strong enough. If they fail, what then?"

"If they fail, we fall. Yet let us stand as we may, and hope that it shall not come to that."

"No hope while the Ring lasts," said Frodo.

"...The Ring," mused Faramir, slowly and very softly, with a wry smile. "Is it not a strange thought that such great evil should come of so small a thing, and fair? The One Ring that was thought to have perished from the world– sent out into the wild, borne by a wanderer from a far country: the peril of Men."

Frodo looked up. His heart quailed with momentary misgiving; but Faramir returned his gaze steadily.

"Fear me not" said Faramir. "Folly many may deem it, to throw away from us this one sure chance of victory. Yet I would not take this thing, if it lay by the highway. Not were Minas Tirith falling in ruin and I alone could save her, so, using the weapon of the Dark Lord for her good and my glory. No, I do not wish for such triumphs, Frodo son of Drogo."

"Neither did the Council," said Frodo. "Nor do I. I would have nothing to do with such matters."

"For myself," said Faramir, "I would see the White Tree in flower again in the courts of the kings, and the Silver Crown return, and Minas Tirith in peace: Minas Anor again as of old, full of light, high and fair, beautiful as a queen among other queens: not a mistress of many slaves, nay, not even a kind mistress of willing slaves. War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend: the city of the Men of Númenor; and I would have her loved for her memory, her ancientry, her beauty, and her present wisdom. Not feared, save as men may fear the dignity of a man, old and wise."

They sat in silence for a while, still as grey and green shadows upon the stone, making no sound; about them many birds sang, and the sun glistened on the verdant carpet of lush grass in the green lawn of Parth Galen. He paused then, lost in thought, seeming to weigh every word.

"And yet... the Black City–would that there were some other way! It is a hard doom and a hopeless errand. What I would advise you, I know not. Only I would not have you to go to death and torment.

"Think you, my friend," he said, turning now swiftly to Frodo again. "You say that you are afraid. If it is so, the boldest should pardon you. But you are quite certain then, that it is not your good sense that revolts?"

"No, I am afraid," said Frodo. "Simply afraid. But I am glad to have heard you speak so fully. My mind is clearer now."

"Then you will head East, to Mordor and Mount Doom?" queried Faramir. His eyes were grave and his face anxious.

Frodo shivered, and was silent for a long moment.

"I must, it seems," he said at length. "There is no choice but to go on. And yet- I cannot."

["Well, Frodo, now at last we understand one another," said Faramir.] ["But more lies upon our words together than I thought at first"] [a chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality.]

["Even were I such a man as to desire this thing, I would hold myself bound by my oath. But I am not such a man. Or I am wise enough to know that there are some perils from which a man must flee."]

"Go your way- in peace, if you can. Fear not! I do not wish to see it, or touch it, or know more of it than I know (which is enough), lest peril perchance waylay me and I fall lower in the test than Frodo son of Drogo." He rose and bowed low to Frodo.

"Well, so we meet and part, Frodo son of Drogo. If ever beyond hope you return to the lands of the living and we re-tell our tales, sitting by a wall in the sun, laughing at old grief, I will hear all your venture. Until that time, or some other time beyond the vision of the Seeing Stones of Númenor, farewell!"

He embraced the hobbit then, after the manner of his people, stooping and placing his hand upon his shoulders and kissing his forehead. "Go with the goodwill of all good men!" he said.

Then as the Ringbearer bowed his gratitude, he turned and without looking back he left there and went to the circle of fellowship that sat at a distance away. It was a marvel to see with what speed the green-clad captain moved, vanishing almost in the twinkling of an eye. The clearing where Faramir had stood seemed empty and drear, as if a dream had passed.


End file.
